


The Island of Misfit Toys

by cheshirecatstrut



Category: Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Friendship, Post-Season/Series 03 AU, Ugly Holiday Sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 04:25:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheshirecatstrut/pseuds/cheshirecatstrut
Summary: Logan and Dick are innocently watching re-runs one night when, through no fault of theirs, Christmas happens.Written for the VMHQ 2018 Holiday Fic Grab Bag.





	The Island of Misfit Toys

“Three more days till Christmas,” Dick observes, one Friday around 8:00 during holiday break. They’re watching ‘Sin City’ on cable while drinking beer; he speaks rhetorically during a Viagra commercial.

“God bless us, every one.” Logan favors the TV with an ironic toast. “Another holiday designed to cost too much and make us hate our lives, with bonus Christian overtones.”

“Maybe we should follow those assholes to Aspen.” Dick peels the label off his Modelo. “Get in some snowboarding before the powder melts, have drinks in a hot tub with ski bunnies.”

“The conclusion I’ve reached,” Logan tells him, muting the TV to make his point, “is this; they remain assholes no matter how much I drink. Why would I make vacation suck even more by forcing myself to interact with them?”

“Man, Veronica Mars cutting your balls off changed you,” Dick says. “You used to jump at any excuse to throw a party, the rowdier the better. Now all you do is mope around watching rom-coms, acting like you’re gonna grow a beard. News flash—it’s not happening. MAYBE you could manage a pornstache; only then, nobody’d hit on you but dudes.”

Logan gazes at the three-foot-tall artificial tree the hotel set up in the coffee area, which he and Dick smuggled up here a couple days ago while trashed. It has four unbroken ornaments on its branches, plus a flickering electric star. Underneath is a bottle-shaped package, on which his name is written by Dick in Sharpie.

(He bought Dick a top-of-the-line surfboard, because unlike SOME people, he knows how to shop. It’s currently hidden in his bedroom closet, though. Dick’ll drown himself if he tries it before the holiday booze-fest is past.)

“I just feel like,” Logan explains, “we’re almost twenty years old, dude. Our fucked-up families are a thing of the past. Doesn’t it seem like our lives should be about…more than partying with people we loathe, forever?”

“Such as what?” Dick wants to know. “And you’d better not say love, or I’m making popcorn so I can dump it on you.”

“Man, I have no clue. A sense of purpose, maybe? A belief that anything we do MATTERS?”

“You know what’s important in life?” Dick wads up the soggy label and flicks it towards the TV; it splats against the frame and sticks. “Money. We’ve got plenty of that, so why do we NEED to do anything constructive? Ever?”

“Exactly my point,” Logan says, drinking deep, and Dick hits him with a couch pillow.

Someone knocks on the door, and the two of them glance at each other, surprised. Everybody they know is in Aspen or Switzerland, and they’ve hung a do-not-disturb sign on account of the stolen tree. They rock/paper/scissors to determine who gets up; Dick loses, of course, because he has no grasp of strategy, and thus always tries to be rock. He takes defeat like a man, albeit bitching and moaning, and opens the door to a festive Parker and reluctant Mac.

“Merry Christmas!” Parker chirps, throwing a handful of tinsel at him. She’s wearing a bright-green Christmas sweater with a package embroidered front-center, and there’s a sparkly red boa wrapped around her neck.

Mac, attempting invisibility in black-and-red flannel, winces at Dick apologetically as he picks off the tinsel. “Parker’s leaving for Denver tomorrow. She wants to pass out gifts to everyone she’s ever met, first.”

“Cool, is it hooch?” Dick takes the flat, square package Parker extracts from a shopping bag and examines it. “This doesn’t look like hooch.”

“I’m guessing you guys have enough hooch already. Wow, you decorated!” Parker breezes in, breezily; hands Logan a package identical to Dick’s and studies the pathetic tree, head cocked, arms folded. “This is just a guess…but did Logan turn into Charlie Brown at some point this winter?”

“Would your scenario make Dick Linus?” He gets up to lean opposite her, sipping his beer. “Or Snoopy?”

“Snoopy, ‘cause I’m a DAWG!” Dick rips open his gift’s wrapping, in blatant defiance of the Rules of Christmas. Logan sets his carefully under the tree. “’Noel’ by Josh Groban? Are you shitting me?”

“Well, clearly you are feeling festive,” Parker snarks. “I thought you might like some carols to get you in the holiday mood.”

Dick makes to pitch the CD, but Logan intercepts it. Goes to the stereo to pop the thing in, saying, “Excuse my friend, he was raised by wolves—what he meant to say was ‘thank you’. Can I get you ladies a drink, maybe a soda? As you can see, we’re having all KINDS of fun.”

“Well, we’ve got more presents to deliver…” Parker hesitates, torn between holiday goals and the desire to socialize.

Mac, however, senses the possibility of escape. She points to the game sleeve sitting atop the Xbox. “Is that Halo THREE?”

“It IS.” Logan suppresses a smile. “Just bought this week. You wanna give it a try?”

“YES,” Mac says, so fervently he grins despite himself. “We’ve been throwing tinsel at people all afternoon. You wouldn’t happen to have any Red Bull or food containing calories, would you?”

“Dick,” Logan calls over his shoulder, because Dick’s in the kitchenette chugging beer. “Red Bull?”

Dick bends to dig through the mini-fridge, and Parker says, “All right, ONE Bud Light for me. But then I need to finish my errands.”

“Light beer too, dude,” Logan amends, and hands Mac a room-service menu. “Order whatever. It’s all comped, thanks to my trustees.”

“Does Corona count as light?” Dick shouts. “Because all we’ve got is that and Modelo. And Jagermeister, unless I drank the rest of it last night.”

“Fine.” Parker holds out a hand as Groban begins crooning ‘Silent Night’. Watches Mac page through setup menus at lightning speed. “How do you all know so much about video games, anyway? Don’t any of you have lives?”

Mac accepts the Red Bull and drinks deep, not answering, so Logan says, “If we had lives, would we be on our couch watching re-runs over Christmas break?”

“Good point.” Parker takes a seat in the easy chair, sipping her beer with a grimace. “I, on the other hand, have more obligations than I want. I’m going home two days before the holiday and coming back two days after, and it STILL feels like too long a trip.”

“Hear, hear,” Mac says from the couch, handing a controller to Logan and selecting the Master Chief avatar. “MY family’s going CAMPING tomorrow. I’ll be enjoying soggy turkey sandwiches over a smoky fire on the big day. Possibly in the SNOW.”

“In California?” Logan squints, doubtful, but chooses the Arbiter and starts the game. Dick sits beside him, chugging yet another beer, then belches continuously for a good three seconds.

Parker’s phone rings, and she sets her drink down to answer. “Yes? Oh, hey Wallace. No, I don’t know where Piz is--why would I? It’s not like we’re dating. Apparently, he told Veronica I’m not his TYPE.”

Logan snorts, and Dick says, “Wait, what? Ronnie’s sidekick’s sidekick thinks he’s too hot to go out with YOU?”

Parker rolls her eyes, mouthing ‘Right?’ but continues listening and nodding.

“Piz has his eye on different game,” Logan says, acid. “A shorter-but-deadlier specimen, although equally out of his league. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t end up tased.”

“Veronica only remembers the guy’s alive when she needs something.” Mac switches to her support weapon to better facilitate carnage. “And speaking of alive…you’d better act it, Echolls. Because you’d still be losing even if you WERE paying attention.”

“Ooh, a challenge.” He settles deeper into his seat with a smirk. “Game on, Mackenzie. Let’s see if your dexterity even remotely matches your brains.”

“It’s all about strategy…” she begins; then Dick, slow on the uptake due to his pickled bloodstream, interrupts.

“Wait…did someone just say Ronnie’s banging that radio nerd? Would she REALLY give up gold-digging for the host of Blues Clues after all those years of effort?”

“You’d better hope she never learns you said that,” Logan advises. “You’ll get tased, too.”

“I can’t right now, Wallace.” Parker’s voice grows higher, exasperated. “No, we’re in Logan’s room, having a beer. Well, I’m having a beer. Mac and Logan are playing video games, and Dick’s just drinking himself into a coma.”

“I’ve got news for you,” Dick tells her, pitching the empty bottle carelessly across the room. “A coma would require liquor. Which we don’t have, unless the Jagermeister’s not gone, because Logan won’t open his present until Christmas.”

“Fine,” Parker tells the phone, as Groban segues over-dramatically into ‘Drummer Boy’. “Mac’s not going anywhere, anyway, unless there’s an 80% off sale at the Apple store. See you in five.”

Hanging up, she announces, “Wallace is on his way over. He bought his brother a gift that’s not working—needs Mac to take a look, before she disappears into the no-cell-reception-having woods.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.” Mac hoots as she unlocks an achievement. “In your face, Echolls! Like I told you, strategy is key.”

“Keep right on believing that.” Logan leans forward to better focus, since losing is clearly not an option. “Maybe you’ll come in a respectable second.”

There’s a pounding on the door, and Parker says, “Did he run all the way here? I JUST got off the phone!”

Nobody stands up to answer, and finally Dick sighs. “FINE, I’ll be the doorman. It’s not like I have millions in the bank, or anything better to do.”

“In fact, you DON’T have anything better to do,” Logan points out. “But since you’re in the mood to be helpful, order some food after letting the guy inside.”

“I’ll order my foot up your ass,” Dick says, not an example of his best wordplay, and swings the door wide to admit Wallace (who does appear to be sweating, as well as deeply cranky). Veronica’s BFF carries a green-and-black object that looks like a telescope, but with a Gatling-gun accessory.

“FINALLY,” he says when he spots Mac, shrugging out of his jacket and tossing it on a table. “I’ve been looking for you guys EVERYWHERE.”

“Well that makes sense, we’ve BEEN everywhere,” Mac says. “Right now we’re here, and I think there’s food coming. Right, Dick?”

Dick sighs again, grabs the menu and pulls out his cell. Logan enables a skull, giving their enemies extra health; laughs when Mac groans in dismay and redoubles her efforts.

“I had to WALK, too,” Wallace continues, peeved by the lack of sympathy. “Because Piz has a car, but PIZ is nowhere to be found, on this day of all days. Usually he trails after me every single place I go.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re his only friend.” Dick places a hand over the phone receiver. “I’m buying mozzarella sticks, onion rings, chicken wings and jalapeno poppers. If you guys don’t like those, suck it.”

“The balanced diet every teen needs,” Mac intones, and Logan smirks.

“All the comforts of home,” he agrees. “Don’t you wish you too could live in a luxury hotel, with no possessions to call your own?”

“Don’t make me sad for you, Logan, it’s Christmas.” Parker sets down the Hammacher-Schlemmer catalogue through which she’s been paging. “What IS that thing anyway, Wallace?”

“A USB missile launcher.” He holds it up in display. “I got this for Darryl so we could battle the next-door neighbors. Only the USB part is broken—and I can’t take it to a repair shop, because no Piz, no car. I figured Mac was the best solution.”

“NICE!” Dick hangs up the phone to check it out. “Dude, these missiles are foam. What’s the point of a launcher that can’t mess stuff up? Take this shit back to the store.”

Wallace slants a look at Logan. “Are ALL your friends psycho? Is something wrong with the Neptune water? They’re foam because this is a toy for CHILDREN, man.”

“Not the kind of children we were,” Logan explains. “You want Dick to take your place, Mac, so you can save Fennel’s bacon?”

“Nice try,” Mac says drily. “Wallace, get over here and play my character. And do NOT let Logan win, it’s a moral IMPERATIVE.”

“No sweat.” Wallace hands the missile launcher to Dick and cracks his knuckles. “Wait, is this Halo THREE? Man, I want no part of y’all’s rich-boy problems, but I wish I had your cash.” He takes the controller, adds, “Prepare to go up in flames, Echolls,” and folds onto the floor to play.

Logan cackles, invested now. “I hope you can walk that talk, dude. As a reminder, there’s no crying in Halo.”

After climbing over the back of the couch, Mac takes the launcher from Dick; Wallace steals her spot as she examines the cord, eyes narrowed. “Easy, the end’s just dented. Got a spare phone charger lying around? I can splice this in five minutes.”

“Use mine,” Logan tells her. “On the dresser in my room. It’s not like people who matter will call this week, anyway.”

“God!” Parker plants exasperated hands on hips as ‘I’ll Be Home for Christmas’ warbles to a halt. “I hope this emo talk’s due to your recent break-up, or I’m suggesting Prozac.”

“Well, three years ago my girlfriend was murdered,” Logan says thoughtfully, sitting up straighter as the High Prophet activates the artifact. “The following December, my dad got stabbed with an icepick at his own soiree. LAST year, I spent the holidays in an ankle bracelet, fending off murder attempts by a motorcycle gang; then, earlier this month, Veronica. You wouldn’t THINK getting blown off by her would hurt as much as the rest, and yet.”

“Wow, you really ARE Charlie Brown.” Parker frowns, sympathetic, as Mac wanders into Logan’s bedroom. Dick begins throwing missiles at the wall while making exploding noises. “And life is Lucy, and Christmas is your football.”

“Thanks for that mental image.” Logan pulls a knife from his pocket, hands it to Mac as she returns with the cord. “Truly.”

Smiling, Mac unfolds it, then sits on the carpet to fix the launcher, deftly stripping and splicing wires. “You’ll want to wrap the join tightly in electrical tape,” she tells Wallace, “so Darryl doesn’t get shocked--at least an inch past bare wire in both directions. If your mom doesn’t have any, you can buy some at a hardware store whenever Piz reappears.”

“IF Piz reappears.” Wallace leans sideways as he navigates, like doing so will tilt his avatar. “Veronica couldn’t help ‘cause she had a case in Cupertino. I don’t want to BELIEVE he overheard me say ‘be careful’ and followed her there; what he thinks he could do if someone pulled a gun, I’ve got no clue. Plus not to jinx myself, because this IS Veronica Mars we’re talking about--but how dangerous could Cupertino be?”

“She’ll find a way to MAKE it dangerous,” Logan says grimly, running a hand through his hair. “Her peskiness infuriates everyone, eventually.” He whistles for Dick to take over so he can pace. “Did she say WHERE in Cupertino, exactly? Or what the case entailed?”

“Oh, hell no.” Wallace points at him with the controller. “If you leave to chase Veronica too, I won’t get my cheese sticks, and I haven’t eaten in hours. Why even break up with that girl if you meant to keep looming behind her like a bodyguard? Uh-uh, Casablancas, you did NOT just shoot that guy. Who taught you to play this game anyway, man? Squirrels?”

“Say hello to my little friend,” Dick mutters in response, his words followed by a cacophony of explosions.

Logan rolls his eyes. Parker says, “Can someone please explain the appeal of copious animated body parts? Wouldn’t you rather have a conversation, or dance?”

Everyone turns to stare at her blankly; she throws up her hands. “I can see I made THAT speech to the wrong crowd. Fine, one more beer and then I’m FORCING you all to socialize.”

Mac, who’s at the fridge searching for Red Bull, grabs her a Corona. She offers one to Logan, but he shakes his head and keeps pacing. “I call dibs on playing winner.”

Parker takes a sip and sets her drink on the table; extracts tinsel from her shopping bag and begins decorating the tree, humming along to ‘What Child Is This’. Mac collects the missiles Dick scattered across the floor, and hooks the launcher to her laptop so she can test it. Logan locates his phone to check messages before it dies, but is distracted by a knock on the door.

“They’d better have brought extra marinara this time, or I’m calling the kitchen!” Dick shouts as Logan pads across the room to answer, tucking away the cell and fishing out his wallet for tips. When he opens up, though, Veronica’s on the other side, holding a brightly-wrapped box and shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Hey,” she says, with a surreptitious glance down the hall, as if checking for witnesses. “I wasn’t sure you’d be home; I heard your crowd went to Aspen for the holiday. But it’s been so crazy this week, today was the first chance I had to…swing by.”

“I hate everyone in Aspen,” he says blankly, because the inside of his head is white noise. He stares at the pretty green box, throat closing with emotion.

“Well, to be fair you hate everyone, everywhere.” She smiles crookedly. “Is this a good time? Can I come in, or do you have…someone over?”

“Not someone-someone. There IS no someone-someone since you.” He swings the door wider to admit her. “Wallace said you were in Cupertino.”

She frowns. “I just told him that so Piz wouldn’t follow me around all day--I didn’t want witnesses when I tried to deliver this. When did you talk to Wallace, though?”

“Uh…” Logan says; at the same time, Wallace calls, “Hurry up with those onion rings! Kicking this guy’s ass effectively requires FOOD!”

“Wallace?” V shoves the box into Logan’s hands and pushes past him into the room. “Mac? Parker? What the heck is going on here?”

“It’s the Christmas of Misfit Toys!” Parker unwinds the boa from her neck so she can wrap it around the tree. “We came over to drop off gifts—this CD, to be specific, which I think we can all admit is AMAZING—and, well, things spiraled.” Logan brushes past her to set the box carefully under the tree and she lifts her brows. “Wow, what a time-consumingly wrapped package to give an ex!”

“Check this out,” Mac tells Veronica, with an apprehensive glance between her and Parker. She taps a key. The missiles fire, denting the wall, and Veronica flinches. “Oops.”

“No sweat.” Logan passes fearlessly through the strike zone, heading for his bedroom. “The great thing about wealth? Most problems go away as soon as I hand out money.”

“Whoa, imagine if those things weren’t foam. They could have done some DAMAGE!” Dick spots Veronica as he pauses his game to inspect the wall. “Holy shit, what’s Ronnie doing here? Why aren’t you drinking eggnog with your dad and forgetting Logan exists?”

“Dick, and I say this with love…” Logan emerges from his bedroom with a small, wrapped box. “Shut the fuck up.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he hands the gift to Veronica. “I didn’t think we were still…you know, exchanging presents this year. But I had already…whatever. I got this for you.”

“You did?” V’s voice is strangely hesitant, and her eyes fill with tears. “Really?”

“Veronica.” He gazes helplessly down at her. When she looks up, she’s caught by his stare. “Of COURSE I did. I thought YOU were the one who didn’t…want my package. It was never me, running away.”

She laughs, the sound watery. “I’d ask if I can open it right now, but I know you,” she says. “You’d rather I wait until Christmas morning, right? ‘Anticipation adds spice’?”

“Good things come to those with patience,” he agrees softly, and the smile she flashes is among her most blinding. “You want to stick around a while? Have some buffalo wings? Everyone at this impromptu party is more your friend than mine, anyway.”

“That sounds nice,” she says, kitten-soft. He extends his hand to her, palm up, and she rests her small one atop. Their fingers entwine.

Logan leads her to the tree, where she ceremoniously sets her box next to his. On the stereo, ‘The First Noel’ begins to play, punctuated by explosions as the Ark gets fragged.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> VMHQ Holiday Grab Bag prompts used:
> 
> 28\. A found family Christmas.  
> 30\. Logan finally gets to enjoy a Christmas during S3! He gets to spend the holidays with Veronica and not be alone like during S1 and S2. Veronica has to spend Christmas with him and they end up having a really great time.  
> 46\. Logan and Veronica, after S3 breakup, meet at a Christmas party.  
> 50\. LoVe wind up participating in a holiday activity together.


End file.
